


Tout Devient Toujours Compliqué (Everything is Always Complicated)

by phoenix_risen



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: 20s au, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Mafia AU, Secret Relationship, a little richjake, also gore warning, bc mafia and guns lol, boyf riends — Freeform, jeremy is the son of a mob boss, mostly - Freeform, squipjere MENTIONED ONLY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 20:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12661302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_risen/pseuds/phoenix_risen
Summary: (Prohibition/Roaring 20s Era Mob AU)Jeremy Heere, the only son of a notorious mob boss, doesn't care for violence. He absolutely doesn't want to get involved in the family business, and avoids it at all costs, but familial pressure may force him to take that spot, anyway. He wants to pass off his prospective position of "Underboss" (one he is good at but reluctant to take) to his father's ward, Keanu "Squip" Heere, but he refuses to take it.Michael Mell, son of an immigrant family, joined the Dillinger family at 15 and works as a Capo and as a bodyguard to their son, Jake. He doesn't exactly like what he does, but he continues his work to support his parents and younger brother. He's fostered an unwilling rivalry with the Heere family's top member, "The Squip", after being the only one to ever successfully escape him. Fearing for his safety, he's on edge constantly.These two both have their own Mob related stresses, but meet under circumstances that lead to a secret relationship between them. If they're found out, it could result in their separation, or even their deaths. On top of that, the Squip is becoming suspicious. Can they survive together,or will this become a Romeo and Juliet Tragedy?





	1. In A Sentimental Mood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome to my fic!  
> I wanna give you a quick warning, there's some goriness in this chapter, so keep that in mind when reading.  
> Other than that, the only other thing is that this is kind of unbeta-ed, so I'm sorry if there are any blatant mistakes. When one reads their own writing, finding mistakes is more difficult.  
> That's all I've got to say, so, reader, Please enjoy!

If Jeremy had to pinpoint when in his life he found himself straying from the path laid out for him, he’d have to say it was his tenth birthday.

It had been rather unremarkable compared to any other ten year old’s birthday. His father, mother, and his future bodyguard Keanu stood around him, as well as many of his family members. Not in the literal sense, of course: his dad called them his family, The Family, so Jeremy did, too. In reality, they worked for his dad. They were extremely loyal to him, and loved Jeremy as much as his dad loved him. Jeremy knew all of their names, even then. They all brought him gifts and cards, excited for him and giving him pats on the head and such. They didn’t have to, but they did.

If everyone had been less concentrated on Jeremy blowing out candles and unwrapping gifts, maybe what happened next could have been avoided. Maybe he wouldn’t have been scared so much so early. Maybe he wouldn’t have developed such a resistance towards the idea of taking over the family business. But they didn’t, and the following events left Jeremy unable to do what was expected of him.

It had been a long, exciting day for Jeremy. Playing in the snow, getting a ride in his dad’s big, fancy work car, a dinner with lots of people…. It had worn him out. Keanu was tucking him in around eight o’clock, despite the promise of a nine o’clock bedtime that night. His father and mother had had a disagreement about his party for some reason (they had a lot of those, and Jeremy learned at a young age trying to understand it was futile), so the responsibility of putting Jeremy to bed was given to Keanu instead. Jeremy was absolutely livid about this, and was fighting tooth and nail to avoid having to sleep.

Keanu was fourteen at the time, barely old enough to go to high school and already working for Jeremy’s dad. He’d worked for his dad since he was eleven, and had even taken on the name Keanu as a homage to Mr. Heere’s nickname for him. Keanu, Mr. Heere said, was picked as he’d had a friend when he was younger named that. Keanu’s given name was a mystery, as he’d shed it as soon as he entered the family. When he became Keanu “The Squip” Heere, Keanu “Grim Reaper” Heere, assassin and bodyguard. But back then, all he was supposed to do until he was sixteen was babysit Jeremy. After that night, that changed drastically. That night was a night of firsts for many, and in the most unfortunate way possible.

He recalled that he’d been begging Keanu to let him stay up later or some similar situation when he saw something move behind him. He trailed off, and watched in horror as a shadow came out of his closet.

He’d gone almost completely silent, muttering about a monster and grabbing Keanu’s arm to try and hide behind him. Keanu was angry, already frustrated from having to deal with a petulant child. He smacked him on the cheek lightly and told him to stop being ridiculous, before turning to point out that monsters didn’t exist. Jeremy was ten years old, he exclaimed, monsters are for babies! But when he saw the shadow, he froze. 

Years later, he told Jeremy it was the most scared he’d ever been.

In the face of this danger, Jeremy saw the shadow as a horrifying monster. Keanu saw a dangerous man with a gun. To Keanu, they were very different things, but Jeremy saw them as one and the same.

The man yelled something, and Keanu was scrambling to try and act with a scared child clinging to him. He got out his own gun, a Colt, that he’d only ever shot at targets under Mr. Heere’s supervision and pointed it. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. There was shouting, things like “Put it down!” and “You first!” and “Who are you?”. Jeremy was terrified, so terrified, sobbing behind Keanu and pleading with him to stop this, to make it all go away. Keanu had made the mistake of using Jeremy’s name while trying to comfort him, and the man’s eyes widened. Jeremy was his target, the son of Mr. Heere. They found out later Jeremy’s death was meant to help try and start a fight between the two families, specifically the Heeres and the Valentines.

The moment this realization hit him, the man ran at them, getting close, so close, and-

_ Bang _ .

Jeremy would never forget the way Keanu steadied right before he pulled the trigger.

Red was everywhere as the bullet tore through the man’s head. Crimson didn’t go well with baby blue. It just didn’t. It didn’t go with his baby blue walls or baby blue blankets. It didn’t go well on Keanu’s face, with his too-blue eyes. It didn’t feel good, either, as the blowback caught Jeremy and Keanu, Jeremy being short enough for it to be in his face. Jeremy couldn’t tell if the sensation was in his head, created out of shock, or if he really had been hit with the man’s blood. The gunshot from Keanu’s Colt had put a hole in the man’s forehead, and totally blew off the back of it.

It was silent after the shot for a long time, until Jeremy broke it and started screaming again. Screaming because he had blood on him, screaming because of the man missing the brunt of his head in front of him, screaming because he was too young to have to see something like this. Keanu was breathing heavily, staring at the mess. He didn’t even attempt to comfort Jeremy again, beyond pulling him close to himself. Jeremy still remembered the way his skin stuck to Keanu’s, sweat and tears. Everything smelt like death and blood and fear. And they just stood there, Jeremy screaming and Keanu panting, for what felt like forever. Jeremy’s voice cut out at some point, but his mouth didn’t close. His voice was gone for the subsequent two days, throat ripped raw from the screaming.

They’d been found soon after, the door being kicked open by his father and followed by everyone still in the house. Jeremy’s mother ran over, scooping him in her arms and carrying him out of the room. She hushed him with comforting words, but the disgusted look on her face told a different story. He picked up on that, and it kept him from calming down. As he was taken away, he saw his dad pulling Keanu into a hug as the boy stared into the distance with empty eyes. He didn’t see Keanu again for almost two weeks after the incident. He had apparently showed some weird behavior afterwards. Jeremy was never brave enough to ask exactly what that behavior had been.

It was after that night, the night Jeremy could have very well died if it the circumstances had been slightly different, that Jeremy decided he wanted nothing to do with the Mob lifestyle. He’d always been excited to take over for his father, but when he was finally confronted with what that really meant, he couldn’t cope with it. Keanu told him again and again that it wasn’t as big a deal as he thought it was, but Jeremy had a suspicion that Keanu liked what he did a little too much for comfort. It had been ten years, an entire decade since that event, and Jeremy held strong to his decision against taking his father’s place. His mother, who had left his father soon after the incident, supported him in that decision. She hated the Mob. His father was upset at first, but eventually gave up on trying to convince him to change his mind. Jeremy showed promise, being decently charismatic (when he wasn’t anxious, which was rare) hand having a knack for guns, but his total refusal made convincing him basically impossible.

The only person who held strong was Keanu. Even now, Jeremy twenty and himself twenty-four, he spoke as if Jeremy would one day take over, despite his protest. Jeremy decided to not even bother anymore trying to correct him. Keanu showed interest in becoming the boss, but hated the political half of it. He could do it, but often told Jeremy it was tedious and annoying. Jeremy found that to be the more tolerable part, honestly, but Keanu was more stubborn than he was. Trying to change his mind was more pointless than the other way around.

But that was Jeremy’s life. Being told someday he’d be a Mob Boss, thinking about the many deaths at the hands of those around him, and having exactly zero charisma when Keanu wasn’t around or he was the least uncomfortable. He was the saddest excuse for a Mob heir that ever existed. 

It was a little pathetic, but that was life, he supposed.

 

****

 

Despite everything that happened in Jeremy’s life, he still had some fun things he could do. Yeah, Keanu had to follow him around when he went out for safety reasons, but that was usually tolerable. He’d just quietly tag along, with the occasional (usually negative) comment. Jeremy learned to tune it out. He didn’t mind it all that much, really. If he did, there were ways to get out of Keanu’s sight, but he avoided that. Keanu was scary when he was upset, be it angry or worried, so Jeremy tried his best to behave. A salty Kea was better than an enraged one any day. At least salty Kea didn’t threaten his well being and freedom.

Jeremy’s favorite spot to go, without a doubt, was the local speakeasy. It was run by some friends of the family, and he loved the cabaret nights. His friend Christine was up there a lot, performing solos and skits and so on. They’d dated for a while in their teens, but had ultimately decided to just be friends. It had stung at first, he’d had a lot of feelings for her, but now Jeremy was happy for it. He loved Christine to bits, but dating her had been weird. Keanu had been pissier than usual, on top of the awkwardness between him and Christine, so they’d broken up and let everything go back to comfortable normalcy. That included him going to all her cabaret shows and supporting her.

Tonight was no different.

Keanu had had an important job, so Jeremy went by himself. If he wasn’t home by the time Keanu got there, he could avoid the weirdly manic period Keanu always got into post-hit. Ugh.

He’d dressed up nicely, and got over to the speakeasy, called MidSummer's, as fast as possible. It was safer for him in the speakeasy than on the street. The streets didn’t have a bunch of people working for his dad in one place, after all. If someone tried to hurt him inside, despite it being considered a neutral zone, since the brunt was Heere soldiers, they’d get ripped to pieces. When he got in, with no trouble at all, of course, he immediately headed to the back. He was allowed through, all the way to Christine’s dressing room. They knew him. He was here all the time.

“Jere!” Christine squealed when she saw him. She was half-dressed, but she practically tackled him to the ground. “Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re here!”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

Brooke, another girl who worked with Christine that he was sort of friends with, spoke up. “Dustin bailed on us out of nowhere. Now we don’t have a lead! I’m so mad!”

“Something about his girlfriend. Hmph!” Christine pouted. “Jeremy, will you cover?”

“M-me? Christine, listen, I  _ can’t _ …”

“Why not? Your shadow isn’t here.” Brooke giggled. “C’mon, Jeremy.”

“Kea isn’t my  _ shadow, _ Brooke- and I don’t know the song, anyway!” Jeremy threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

“Yeah, you do! ” Christine pulled out a piece of paper. A lyrics sheet. Jeremy looked it over. He did know it, pretty well in fact. Christine had sung it for him a million and one times. But  _ still _ ! Just because he knew it didn't mean he'd sing it!

“Christine, listen, I would love to help out-”

“Oh thank god, Jeremy, you're a lifesaver!!” Christine threw her hands in the air. Jeremy stared at her, wide eyed and gaping. “I told you, Brookie! I told you he'd come through for us!”

Brooke gave Jeremy a sympathetic look, and he sighed in response. This could be fun, right? He could suck it up and deal. He’d just have to sing. In front of a bunch of people. All of which knew him  _ and  _ his dad.

Oh god.

He shook his head to clear it, and huffed. “Okay. Okay. I'll do it. Just…. Save me if I mess up.”

“You won't, but okay!” Christine was beaming. “You’re super good at french, so this should be easy. Dustin was okay, but you’re better. You’ll be amazing.”

Jeremy gulped, not at all convinced. This was gonna be bad. But he did owe Christine a favor, and he knew the song, and it wouldn’t  _ hurt _ him to sing the song. And Brooke was right! Keanu wasn’t there to meddle and shadow him, so that stress wasn’t there. He could do this.

“I can do this.” He said aloud.

“That’s the spirit! Now sit down, so I can make you up!” Christine pushed him into the chair. “And Jacob Dillinger’s gonna be here tonight, too! Exciting, right?”

_ “WHAT?”  _ Jeremy yelped, just in time to get the powder puff in his mouth. Damn him for rationalizing this to himself!

Why him?

Why  _ always _ him?


	2. Montagne Russe

Michael Mell would never have guessed he'd end up in the Mob. He was kind of a soft guy, in more ways than one. He was tall, but on the chubby side. Not that he didn't have muscle underneath! He just had a protective outer layer! It kept him warm when he was cold, and if anyone tried to argue with him on the legitimacy of that, they could shut their traps. Not that he'd really make them, seeing as it keeping him warm was complete bullshit that he made up for a laugh. People always thought it was hilarious. Michael was the kind of man to poke fun at himself, and had a tendency towards good-natured teasing. Almost everyone who met him on a normal day liked him. He was just a really nice, laid back type of guy. 

Unless he was on the job.

“On the Job” Mike and normal Michael were wildly different creatures. When he was working he was ruthless, notoriously so. He did what he was told without question, turning off his conscience until he could get home. Unquestioning obedience was required, and he fulfilled his duties, no matter how much they violated his personal morals. All regret was saved until later, when he sat in the shower contemplating his life choices and watched the blood wash off his body and flow down the drain.

He wouldn't have joined the Mob if he'd had another choice.

But he didn't. He really didn’t.

His parents didn't speak a lot of English, but they'd both come to America to make a life for themselves. The American Dream was potent, after all, and all kinds of men were achieving wealth. Despite not finding their fortune, his parents met, fell in love, and had him. His father's salary was enough to support his one child and his wife well enough. In that way, he was very fortunate. Many couldn’t boast the same. Everything was fine, happy, until Michael was about ten. 

His mother became pregnant again, and his little brother Maxwell was born. Suddenly they didn't have enough money anymore, and as a non-white man there was very little his father could do. If you weren’t white, you were second class as a rule, and as stupid as it was, they couldn’t change that. Michael's job became taking care of Max while his parents worked. They all loved Max dearly and didn't blame him at all. How could they? He was a baby, he didn’t ask to be born. But it was tough. Extremely tough.

Michael was always one for optimism, but things just kept getting worse. His mom's hours were cut. His dad got hurt at his job and had to take leave. It wasn’t paid. Of course not.

So Michael did what he felt he had to. At fifteen, he went job hunting. It took him a while, him settling for a (dangerous) factory job for a while, but eventually he was extended a hand by the Dillinger Family. They found him big enough to be intimidating, and he lied a little and said he was good with a gun. He was given a job with grunt work, errand running initially. When he got to the point where he had to use a gun, he thanked god for being a natural when it came to shooting. He was promoted, and promoted, and promoted up. He got his family into a Dillinger funded apartment building. He didn't even live with them anymore, but his bosses liked him enough that they let them stay in a separate apartment from him. He gave them some of each paycheck, and his dad was able to go back to working his normal hours. His mother quit and cared for Max. Everything was going back to normal. His parents didn’t actually know the nature of his job, but that was fine. Max was ten himself, now, and living in a stable home. His parents lived comfortably and happily. That’s all that mattered.

Michael would never have seen himself as part of the Mob, but he owed them his and his family's lives. He couldn't hate them, at least not the Dillingers, after they'd been so kind to him. Michael needed to support his family, and if that meant the occasional hit, so be it. That was rarer these days, though. He was lucky. He had recently been promoted to bodyguard for the son of the family, Jacob. Jake, for short. The guy was naturally charismatic and cutthroat, everything Michael imagined the son of a Mob Boss to be. He was impressive and good at what he did, and Michael respected him for it. Jake's other bodyguard Richard Goranski, unlike Michael, hated his family. He had apparently been living on the streets when they took him in, as he refused to go home. His dad was an alcoholic (Rich was the only pro-prohibition person Michael had ever met) and Rich hated him for it. He treated their family terribly, and Rich often said he’d kill him if he hadn’t already died when he was seventeen. 

When Rich had been hired, he said couldn't get work for a few reasons. For one, many employers just didn't like looking at him. He was covered in burn scars on one side of his face, down his entire body. He changed the story of how he got them every time he was asked, and Michael had no idea which was true.

Jake once said he knew the true story, and Michael had practically flipped when he refused to tell him. Asshole.

The other reason behind Rich’s inability to get work elsewhere wasn't something Michael was allowed to talk about, and he wouldn't. It wasn't his place to talk about it, and it didn't affect how he felt about Rich. He was a good partner, a good shot, and a good laugh.

If it wasn’t for the murder stuff, Michael would say he genuinely loved his job.

There were a lot of risks, though. “The Squip” was a main concern. He worked for the Heere Crime Family, and Michael was terrified of him. He was named after some Japanese weapon Michael didn’t know shit about, but as far as he knew it was dangerous. He remembered the first time he heard it he’d found it a little racist, but literally everything was, as far as he was concerned. There were worse things to be called. Michael had his own names that he hated. He wondered if Squip hated his nickname as much as Michael hated his. Michael “Red Lion” Mell. They were so dumb. What did that even mean? Just because he had a lion patch on his (kinda red) trench coat….? At least he didn’t have one like the Squip’s other one….

Keanu “Grim Reaper” Heere.

The guy allegedly had over one hundred fifty kills under his belt, and moved so fast it was like he was disappearing and reappearing to another place. It was crazy. Not to mention he was pale, with eyes that were too blue and dark hair and clothes. He really did look like death.

They said the only time he ever smiled was right before a kill.

It was a lot of hearsay, but Michael didn’t doubt it one bit. The few times he’d spoken to the Squip, he felt like he was talking to an automaton. Something going through motions it was built to, a machine, not a living, breathing human. His eyes had no depth, his face didn’t change. Michael never wanted to have to talk to him again. God, no.

Thank the lord most of his work was just escorting Jake here and there. It was a lot less stressful. Tonight they were going to a neutral aligned speakeasy, where a friend of Jake’s was singing. A performer named Christine. She was apparently very good, so Michael was excited. Rich seemed annoyed, and Michael didn’t ask him why. He didn’t want to deal with the inevitable yelling that would follow. They drove out there, into Heere family territory, and parked outside the building. They got in with a little hassle, and Michael admired the place. It was large, larger than the ones Michael was familiar with. They were led to their seats, and Rich and Michael sat down on either side of Jake. There was a performance going on on stage, scantily clad women singing, but Michael didn’t really watch. He wasn’t very interested, but Rich and Jake both watched it attentively. He personally didn’t get the appeal, but whatever.

There was about four performances until the announcer on stage said something Michael cared about, and the only reason he noticed was because Jake punched him in the arm. He’d just been drawing on his napkin, but he looked up.

“Hello, everyone! That last group was fantastic, but here comes everyone’s favorite gals! Brooke Lohst and Christine Canigula!” The crowd went wild. Jake even stood up, clapping and grinning.

Christine (Michael assumed this one was Christine, she came on second) walked up to the edge of the stage. She smiled widely at everyone. “We have a surprise for you! Our usual singer isn’t here with us, so a special friend of ours is gonna sing for you!”

She walked off stage, and walked on with….

Wow.

_ Wow. _

Whoever this guy was, he was… Wow was the only word Michael could think. He was tall, thin, in a well fit suit. His hair was loose and curly, parted to one side and obscuring half his face. The crowd was silent for a few seconds, then burst into cheers again.

“Holy shit, that’s Jeremy!” Jake exclaimed, before slamming his hands on the table and whooping. Rich was laughing his ass off. The man on stage, Jeremy, was hiding his face in his hands, occasionally looking up and grinning, before hiding again.

Wow.

Once the crowd calmed down, the piano began. It was an bouncy tune, and Jeremy stood between the two girls. They started bouncing their legs to the beat, and Jeremy walked up to the microphone. He took a breath and….

“ _ Mon amour c'est un tic, _

_ De t'aimer à l'oblique, _

_ Dans mon circuit mal imprimé, _

_ Tout devient toujours compliqué~” _

Michael was transfixed. This man’s voice was oddly feminine, just enough to regard it as such. It was pretty, lovely, wonderful. The girls were dancing around him, occasionally adding in harmonies, but Michael ignored them entirely. 

Wow.

" _ Rien ne s'accorde, rien ne s'ajuste, _

_ Mon coeur est une montagne russe, _

_ Y'a toujours une nouvelle astuce, _

_ Pour qu'il torde, pour qu'il se luxe...” _

How could someone have such a pretty voice? How could someone have such a pretty  _ face? _ This was insane. Crazy. Jeremy was obviously very talented, amazing. He must have performed here often, judging by the amount of clapping and the fact Jake was familiar with him.

“ _ Mon amour ça me prend, _

_ Ça monte et ça descend. _

_ Dans mes loops et mes loopings, _

_ J'dévale la courbe sinusoïde!” _

Usually, Michael would try and put a stop to his feelings right here. The warmth in his chest was, in a word, wrong. He always got like that, whether it was the neighbor’s similar-aged son, or his first partner working for the Dillingers five years prior. Handsome men, cute boys… It was a feeling he had a hard time not shutting down.

Rich, when asked about it, laughed at him and told him that if that’s how he felt, he needed to stop being a sissy about it and own it. He did, and now he and Jake together.

Michael wished it was that easy for him. In recent years, men with his… preference… were more and more accepted, but even so, the idea that it was wrong was still carved into his brain. His parents, though he loved them, were vehemently against the idea of a man with a man. This added to the feeling of dubiousness towards how accepted it really was. What if he was just deluding himself to feel better about his feelings? But maybe he was holding himself back due to  _ him  _ not being okay with it. Then again, people like the man on stage made him feel so strongly that he forgot for a few minutes that this was supposed to be a bad feeling to have. That for a moment he even thought it could be bad. How could it be?

Men like that made him think things like just….

Wow.

The music was winding down, now, and Michael let his head swim in Jeremy’s crooning voice. He didn’t want this to end. It was too picture perfect. There were a few more lines to the song, some nice riffs, and as it ended Jeremy smiled at the crowd.

Michael swore their eyes met, and for a second, maybe he felt that the smile was meant for him and him only. It was absurd, he didn’t know this man, but for whatever reason it was as if they were the only two people in the universe. Time stood still, and everything was silent. Or maybe not.

“ _ Terminus.” _

The silence was broken with the last word of the song, and the crowd went wild. People stood, and Michael couldn’t see anymore. He lost Jeremy in the commotion, and once it finally calmed down, he’d disappeared backstage. 

Michael had to meet him again, if only to be able to talk to him.

Michael had to meet him again, so that he could get a smile from him that was only for him, genuinely only for Michael Mell.

“Hey, Mike, we’re going backstage to talk to Christine, wanna come?” Jake tapped him on the shoulder.

“Oh, uh, yeah! Sure!” Mike answered, a little startled by the question.

This was his chance. He could talk to him. He could actually talk to him.

Wow.

_ Wow. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Notes!
> 
> The song Jeremy is singing is called "Montagne Russe" by Dimie Cat
> 
> There's a speedpaint to go with this chapter here -> https://youtu.be/DWrplRqbedk
> 
> Depending on how much time I have, I may make an animatic.
> 
> Also! please keep in mind, I update as I write a chapter ahead. So when I finish chapter 4, you'll get chapter 3. I'm aiming for 8 chapters, but it may be more.


	3. Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen

“Jeremy! You did so good!” Christine gushed, hugging him so tight he felt like his arms might snap. He laughed breathlessly, trying in vain to push her off. She was a lot stronger than she looked, not that Jeremy was particularly strong to begin with.

“C’mon, Christine, you’re gonna kill me…!” She finally released him.

“You sounded fantastic. I think that’s the most applause we’ve ever gotten in a trio! Dustin who?” Christine flapped her hands excitedly. “You should just officially take his spot, if he’s gonna be a flakey jerk!”

“You know I can’t.” Jeremy massaged his now slightly-aching sides. “I’d love to, but Kea wouldn’t let me. You know that.”

“Ask Mr. Heere! He’d probably say yes!”

“Just because he says yes doesn’t mean that Kea will let me. He’s more strict than dad is.” Jeremy sat down, fiddling with a makeup brush he’d taken from Christine’s vanity. “He’d just tell me it’s a stupid distraction. You know how he is. Everything’s a stupid distraction.”

Christine sighed. “You don’t have to listen to him.”

“The alternative is him being mad at me. I’d rather just listen.”

Brooke, who was re-styling her hair, glared at him through the mirror. “You’re twenty years old, Jeremy. You’re an adult. You can almost vote!”

“That doesn’t mean much. You know it doesn’t.” Jeremy rolled his eyes, putting the brush down and pulling a box of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “Kea can’t vote. They took one look at him and decided he was, I dunno, too asian or some bullshit like that.”

“Oh yeah! It doesn’t matter if you were born here, I guess.” Christine spat. “It’s great that women can vote, but I still  _ can’t _ ! It's bullshit, it really is! I was born here, he was born here, but they just stop us from registering! Yeah, yeah, you guys can like our cultures and stuff and all that stuff, but you don't give a shit about-”

“We know.” Jeremy shook his head, pulling a cigarette out. “We know. And I'm sorry. Can you light this?”

Christine, still fuming a little, obliged. Jeremy took a drag, bouncing his leg, and blew the smoke at the mirror.

Brooke huffed. “You know what I mean! Jeremy is an adult! He doesn’t have to take everything that asshole says lying down!”

“I know, I know. Okay? I know. I’m actually…. I’m applying to some colleges. I took my break after high school, and I want to go for law. But if he found out, he’d do everything he could to stop me.”

At this, Christine and Brooke both gasped. They began to chatter happily about different schools Jeremy could attend, and so on. Jeremy was glad for the topic switch. He didn’t like being called out for his inability to stand up to Keanu. He knew it was weak, that it was pathetic. He couldn’t help it. He craved approval, and maybe it was carrot-and-stick, but he’d much rather have a half smile and a soft “good boy” from Keanu than be screamed at by him.

Jeremy had sort of zoned out of the conversation, just smoking and barely listening, before being pulled out of his stupor by loud voices and a smack on the back. He looked up, extremely confused, then smiled in surprise when he recognized the source.

“Jake!” He stood up. Jake pulled him into a quick hug, and Jeremy held his cigarette far off to the side. “Watch I don't burn you on this…!”

“Hey, Jere! You did awesome! I didn’t know you could sing like that!” Jake was laughing and smiling. Behind him stood two men, one being Rich Goranski, and one Jeremy didn’t recognize. The stranger stared at him with wide eyes, and Jeremy dropped his gaze to his shoes. O… Okay….

Rich wrinkled his nose. “Do you really have to smoke inside?”

“Oh, sorry.” He snuffed it out in the ashtray on the vanity. “Brooke and Christine don't mind. If I’d known you guys were coming, I wouldn’t have lit one.”

“Whatever.” Rich scoffed. “I don't see the point of sucking down smoke on purpose.”

Jeremy snorted. “Fuck off, Richard.”

“Make me.”

“You know I won't.”

Rich tried to fight it, but a grin spread over his face. “Good to see you, Tallass.”

“You too, Rich.”

“Oh, Jere, you haven’t met my new guard, yet!” Jake suddenly interjected, slinging an arm around the unknown man. The man looked like he felt awkward, but laughed warmly. “This is Mike.”

“I like Michael better, personally, but feel free to call me whatever.” The stranger, Michael, offered a bashful smile. Jeremy suddenly felt his face heat up. Okay, okay, this guy was… really good-looking.

“I’m Jeremy. Jake calls me Jere, and Rich calls me tallass. For whatever reason. I’m not even that tall!” He gestured to Jake and Michael, who were both taller than him by a solid margin.

“You’d be taller if you weren’t hunched over and scared all the time!” Rich smacked Jeremy on the back, laughing heartily. Jeremy winced, but joined in on the laughter.

“Everyone is tall when it comes to Rich.” Jake rested his chin on the top of Rich’s head. Rich looked offended and tried to swat him away.

“Asshole! Jake!”

“I am both of those things, yes.” Jake looked content.

“Are you two dating yet, or what?” Christine threw her shawl at them. Jake caught it.

“What gives you that idea? Is it the hugging? The cuddling I’m doing of the handsomest, greatest man on the planet?” Jake’s tone was teasing, but Rich buried his face in Jake’s arm, blushing hard.

“Shut up.”

Jake giggled and started cooing dumb stuff to a very, very embarrassed Rich. Jeremy watched fondly. It was about time that they were together. They’d been flirting for almost a year and a half, and it was getting on everyone’s nerves. It was nice that they actually were dating. It was really cute.

Jeremy kept all of this to himself, but Christine was gushing at them, talking about what a sweet, adorable couple they were and so on. Jeremy watched them, smiling to himself. She was right, but Christine could be long winded. Long winded, with double the words since she spoke so fast. Jeremy could honest to God barely understand her sometimes. He loved her dearly, but-

“Are you guys always this accepting?” A voice came from his right, and Jeremy jumped. Michael had, at some point, moved there and Jeremy hadn’t noticed.

“Huh? Oh! We try to be. We’re a pretty queer bunch.”

“I noticed!” Michael chuckled. “It’s nice.”

“I’m glad you think so. I’m sure Jake or Rich would kill you if you said anything negative, though.”

“Good thing I don’t have anything negative to say. Only complaint? I have to work with them, and they’re all smooshy.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry.” Jeremy tittered, and looked over at Michael. “That’s a pain.”

“It could be worse. They could be sucking face nonstop. I put an end to that pretty quick, seeing as it could cause issues if they have a make out session while on a job.”

Jeremy started laughing, so hard that he snorted. He slapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh jesus…!”

“Ohh, my god, that was so cute.” Michael said before he could stop himself. He went pink. “Oh, shit, wait, I’m sorry!”

“Watch out, Michael, you’re dropping pins.” Jeremy teased. Michael flushed even deeper.

“I-! I am not dropping pins! What does that even mean? What the hell….” Michael hid his face in his hands, stammering. “I’m n-not….. I mean, what’s got to do with….? Mm!”

Jeremy patted his shoulder, giggling uncontrollably. “You’re fine.”

“You’re killing me, kid. First, you sing like a goddamn angel, then you laugh like one. You are perfectly crafted to kill me.”

Jeremy puffed out his cheeks, trying to hide the fact he was blushing and wanting to grin like an idiot. He rocked on his feet. Goddamn it.

“I’m sorry, I’m really awkward and weird, aren’t I? Definitely, actually, sorry!” Michael bounced his legs, face filled with discomfort.

“You’re fine! Really fine! I promise!”

“Here I was, just wanting to tell you how good you did singing, and now I'm just a mess. A huge mess.” Michael shook his head hopelessly. “You made me a mess.”

“You made a mess with your pins.” 

“What does that  _ mean?  _ I don’t own pins! Just patches! _ ” _

Jeremy started giggling again. “Mike, your  _ pins _ !”

“No pins! What the fuck are my pins?”

“Your gay pins!”

Michael stared at him for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. The absurdity of the situation was just hilarious for some reason. Jeremy leaned against him a little to support himself, not even realising what he was doing. Soon, the two were borderline hysterical, clinging to each other to keep them from toppling over. The others went quiet, looking at the pair in confusion. For whatever reason, this made Jeremy laugh harder. He dropped to his knees, with Michael trying in vain to pick him back up.

“What’s so funny, guys?” Brooke bent down a little to look at Jeremy, both concerned and vaguely amused.

“His pins!” Jeremy choked out, wiping tears from his eyes. Brooke furrowed her brow, but Christine seemed to get it.

“Way to let your hair down, Mike!” Christine quipped.

“WAIT!  _ That’s _ what it means? Jere, you were calling me out for being a little  _ gay _ ?” Michael pulled a dramatic, offended face. “I mean, yeah, but you don’t have to  _ say _ it!”

Jeremy collapsed to the floor in a fit of giggles. Michael seemed to be relishing what he was doing to the other man, as his expression became one of pride. Jeremy eventually calmed down, sprawling across the floor and gasping for breath.

“Jesus Christ. This is worse than the oranges.”

The rest of the group, save for Michael, broke into laughter.

“Oh, I forgot about that!”

“That’s the best story…”

“Mike doesn’t know that one, Jere!”

“I wanna hear it again, tell Michael!”

Jeremy sat up, wheezing, and looked at Michael. “Do you wanna hear the Oranges story?”

“Um, yeah? Of course! I love funny stuff, in case you haven’t noticed.” Michael smiled, and Jeremy smiled back.

“Oh definitely.”

“So tell me about those oranges.”

“Okay, so. When I was thirteen, my dad had bought oranges for my birthday. That’s in December, so they were pricy. Usually they’re only, like, 25 cents for six, but winter time made them like 50! That’s like 8 cents an orange!”

Michael whistled. “Your dad must love you a lot if he was willing to shell out that much for an orange.”

Jeremy snorted. “I harassed him into it. But I was taking the bag out of the car, and I slipped on the ice. My head hit it hard, and my oranges went everywhere. I screamed, “My oranges!” and tried to get up, but fell again. I was with this other guy, and he’s super serious, but he was laughing so hard he was crying. To this day he can’t handle me saying the word oranges….”

“I wouldn't believe Keanu would laugh at the word oranges unless I'd witnessed it myself.” Christine put one hand over her heart and the other in the air as if swearing by it.

Jeremy noticed that Michael had tensed up.

“Keanu?” He looked around at the group, wide eyed.

“The Squip, yeah.” Rich nodded. “The scariest guy ever laughs at this dork spilling his oranges.”

Michael shook his head, disbelieving. “that's…. That's the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. He's like a machine! Machines don't laugh at cute boys dropping oranges!”

“Keanu isn’t a machine- Wait, hey!” Jeremy smacked him on the arm. “I am not!”

Michael side-hugged him, laughing and grinning. As the group moved topics, Jeremy found his eyes drawn to Michael instead of paying attention. He was funny and nice and handsome and-

Jeremy touched his face, feeling the smile that had grown there. He couldn’t really believe how easy it was to like someone. He felt foolish, crazy, even, like he was on a rollercoaster. Giddy to the point of stupidity. If there was one thought that was clear in his head, though, if there was one thing he could say for certain, it would be this:

He really, really didn’t want this to be the last time he met Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note:  
> 25 cents - $2.97  
> 50 cents - $6.36  
> 8 cents - $1.02
> 
> Those were some expensive oranges


	4. When I Get Low

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW abusive behaviors/abusive relationship

Jeremy was still reeling from the night when he got home. Maybe it was because of the way Michael filled his head, or maybe it was other distractions, but he entered his house a little noisier than intended.

He unlocked the door. He and Michael had had an impromptu singing session, with them dueting and belting out lyrics in the dressing room. He may have gotten a little drunk on top of that, but only a little. Jeremy avoided drinking, usually. Jake had to literally carry Brooke out when the they left, she was so gone. Jeremy chuckled at the memory, kicking his shoes off to the side and tossing his jacket onto the ground. He's get it in the morning.

As he walked further into the house, he decided to stop in the kitchen. Maybe there would be some leftovers or something to snack on.

Luckily enough, there were actually some cookies on the counter. He grabbed a few and was munching happily on one while he headed for the stairs. He started singing and swaying gently, thinking about how he and Michael danced.

_ “My fur coat's sold _

_ Oh Lord ain't it cold _

_ But I'm not gonna holler _

_ 'cause I've still got a dollar _

_ And when I get low _

_ Oh, I get high~” _

Jeremy giggled giddily, and took another bite of cookie. This was an all around not so heinous night. In fact, it was amazing. 

He was almost there to the stairs, sealing it as a just about perfect night, when a voice rang out behind him.

“Jeremiah Matthew William Heere.”

Oh shit.

Jeremy turned slowly to see Keanu standing there, still in his clothes from the day. His face was coldly reserved, but Jeremy could see the rage boiling beneath the surface. Jeremy swallowed hard, heart dropping.

“Hey, Kea. How d-did the job go?” Jeremy offered.

“Not well. Where have you been?”

“MidSummer’s.” Jeremy didn't see any sense in lying. Keanu was already angry as it was, lying might push him over the edge. That would be a shitshow that Jeremy wanted to avoid.

“You know I hate that place.” Keanu hissed. “It isn't conducive to your advancement as Mr. Heere’s son. As the Underboss.”

“I guess.” Jeremy mumbled, looking at his cookies. This wasn't about that, really. The job had gone badly, and now Keanu was looking for someone to blame other than circumstance. That person was usually Jeremy.

“What were you even doing there so late? It's already past midnight!”

“I met some friends.”

Keanu chuckled. “Oh, Jeremy, you don't have any friends. At least, none that would be at MidSummers.”

He meant himself, of course he did. Keanu was always like that. Jeremy sighed. “Christine.”

“Oh. Her.”

“Yeah, her.”

“And that Lohst girl, too, then?” Keanu clicked his tongue dismissively. “Flapper girls are  _ sluts _ , you know? Especially her, I’m sure she’s only nice because of your status.”

Jeremy wanted to protest, but held his tongue. Better to just take it silently and get away sooner. “I suppose.”

“You shouldn’t hang around them.”

“I’m going to, anyway.” Jeremy wasn’t sure why he said that, but there was only so much he could take. Keanu could insult him all day, that was fine, but not Brooke or Christine. He wouldn’t stand for that.

“I know. You don’t learn.” Keanu shook his head, then walked towards Jeremy with arms open. “But that’s why I’m here. You’re  _ delicate _ , Jeremy, you need me to keep you safe.”

“I know, I do.” He didn’t, he really didn’t. He wasn’t a child. Despite this, he allowed Keanu to hold him. Keanu held his face to his chest. Jeremy just stood there, letting him.

“You’ll get it eventually. You aren’t stupid. Right, Jeremy? You aren’t stupid. You’ll listen, and obey, because you aren’t stupid.” His arms tightened, squeezing so hard that it hurt, and Jeremy winced. He could barely breath. 

“I-I’m not stupid.”

“And?”

“I’ll listen.”

“ _ And? _ ” The grip got even tighter. It was like he was being squeezed by a snake, like he was some kind of prey.

“Obey.”

“Good boy, Jeremy.” Keanu released him, chuckling. Jeremy took a deep breath, fighting the urge to have a coughing fit. “Go to bed. You smell like alcohol.”

“Okay.”

“Tomorrow, we’ll talk again.”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Jeremy.” Keanu pushed Jeremy towards the stairs.

“Good night.” Jeremy scurried up them, rubbing his ribs. That was tame, thank god. He didn’t want to imagine how bad it would have been if he found out some of the Dillinger family had been there with him, especially not Jake.

Jeremy shuddered at the thought.

Then he remembered Michael. Michael, who’s last name he never caught. Michael, who smiled like the sun and thought he was cute. Michael, who dropped his all his pins because Jeremy made him so nervous.

Warmth seeped into Jeremy’s chest, and it was like he could breath again. He wondered if Michael’s hugs were as soft and warm as his laugh. Just the idea of that seemed to melt away the cold feeling Keanu had left on him. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but Jeremy couldn’t help it. He actually felt like he was able to brush off the encounter with Keanu. Some nights it kept him awake until daybreak, but tonight, he felt like his skin had a golden layer of protection. Memories could do that much. He felt sappy, soft, gay. Gay in more ways than one. He snickered to himself and opened the door to his room.

Once he’d closed the door behind him, he found himself singing again. He spun, arms up as if dancing with someone.

_“_ _Oh, I'm all alone_ _  
_ _With no one to pet me,”_

Michael had dipped him there, all wide smiles and harmony. He didn’t think the moment sparkled as much as it did in his thoughts, but maybe it had. Maybe it had. __  
_My old rocking chair_ _  
_ __Ain't never gonna get me!”

Jeremy had opened his eyes, and they’d met Michael’s. They were chocolate brown, deep and dark. It was, in a lot of ways, similar to sitting on a beach when it was the perfect temperature. Or Jeremy was just being poetic. The latter was common, but Christine said it made him a good lyricist. __  
_“Cause when I get low_ __  
__Oh, I get high~”  
Jeremy flopped onto his bed, tapping his foot and looking up at the ceiling. He was in such a good mood, and he felt so incredible, he didn’t want the night to end. He’d have to ask Jake to get him in contact with Michael again. There was a certain comfort he got from him that he’d never really experienced before. He blamed that on Keanu. Maybe that feeling was common, and he was just feeling it so strongly because it was new. He didn’t know a lot of people his age, since Keanu had such a firm grip on his social life. Those he did get to talk to were reserved around him, completely out of fear of Keanu. If he’d have been there, Jeremy doubted he would have been able to talk to Michael. The thought made him frown, but he was consoled by reality. He hadn’t been there, and Michael and Jeremy had flirted the whole evening. Everything was fine. He could very easily plan meetups for the six of them around Keanu’s jobs.

Or just the two.

But it was too early for him to think like that! They’d only met once, and that wasn’t enough time to develop a relationship around. He’d give it time, then ask. That was the good way, the healthy way.

Jeremy thought about this for almost an hour, before he finally drifted off to sleep. He wanted to be friends with Michael, or more.

Honestly, anything was fine, as long as it was with him.

That golden boy.

***

The walk home for Michael and his group was uneventful. They dropped of a very drunk Brooke, made sure Jake was safely in his home, all that good stuff.

Usually Rich would walk with Michael to his apartment, but before Michael could suggest it, Jake tugged him into his room. Michael didn’t want to stick around for whatever happened there, so he just went to walk home. Consulting his watch, he found it to be rather close to 1 am. He was surprised. It didn’t feel nearly that late, but then again…

Time seemed to stop in that dressing room.

He felt like a pansy, but he couldn’t help it. That Jeremy guy? Cute as hell. Cutest guy he’d ever seen. Cute, and funny, and for some reason he even seemed  _ interested _ which was beyond Michael as to why. He wasn’t unhappy with himself, but Jeremy was just… On a whole other level. He was as close to the ideal guy, in Michael’s mind, that an actual living human being could be. Maybe that was a little ridiculous, but Michael was feeling a little ridiculous, so it worked out perfectly.

He wondered, off hand, who Jeremy really was. He was dressed well, and definitely had an upper-society air to him, but at the same time he was a little crude and blunt in ways you wouldn’t expect from someone from a good family. To be completely honest, he was a lot like Jake in that. Perhaps that was why they were friends. Sons of good families.

That would usually put Michael off, but Jeremy already seemed interested. He genuinely seemed like he liked Michael, and that was enough to comfort his fears for a time. It wasn’t like Jeremy was part of the mob. How could he be, if he was hanging around Jake, the son of one of the most powerful mobs in the area? On top of that, a lot of rich families didn’t mind having connections in the Mob. This could work in his favor, he thought.

He smiled at the sky, the air just cold enough to feel that it was almost autumn but warm enough to be fine in a light jacket. It was comfortable out, and the sky was clear enough to see the stars and moon well. He hummed happily to himself, the songs he’d sung with Jeremy earlier in the dressing room. When he’d swung the smaller man to music that they had made, back and forth. He giggled a little at the memory of the noise Jeremy had made as he was dipped down. He’d come back up, flushed and laughing and so obviously tipsy and Michael had felt his heart beat faster.

_ “Cause when I get low, _

_ Oh, I get high~” _

He was such a sap, such a softie, and he relished in just how dizzy and goofy it made him feel. High on life, they called it. It was a perfect description of the feeling he had at that moment. This was more of a buzz than whiskey had ever given him, and it didn’t feel hazy like alcohol did.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he would be able to see Jeremy again.

Michael found himself humming the whole way home, Jeremy on his mind. This was the best night he’d had in awhile, possibly ever, as far as normal Friday nights went. He unlocked his door, pet his cat briefly, and sighed happily. If tonight wasn’t ending in such a wonderful way, soft footsteps up the stairs and falling into a bed to dream of blue eyes and radiant smiles, he wouldn’t have wanted it to end. The promise of that was enough for him to be fine with it’s end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I Get Low I Get High - The Hot Sardines ft Alan Cumming


End file.
